


Playlist of Dissonance

by Eternal_Love_Song



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bondage, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Gift Fic, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Canon, Smut, Verbal Humiliation, Yami Yuugi | Atem has his own body, older!Mokuba
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Love_Song/pseuds/Eternal_Love_Song
Summary: A playlist of words.A collection of one shots involving Yami, Yuugi, Mokuba, and Marik.





	1. Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ziven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Be Cool](https://archiveofourown.org/works/384527) by [Ziven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziven/pseuds/Ziven). 



> Control: Rope bondage, BDSM scene, verbal humiliation  
> Yuugi/Yami

Yami was panting. He couldn't help it. The combination of excitement and anticipation had put him on edge very early in the scene and he's stopped trying to control himself in front of Yuugi once he slipped the blindfold over his eyes. A gag was pressed tightly between his lips, preventing him from speaking. It was both a good and a bad thing. Yami didn't want to beg Yuugi for anything tonight, Yuugi always mocked him for it and that always made Yami beg even harder.

"You're trembling, Yami." Yuugi's voice was sing song and teasing. His fingers danced down Yami's body, sliding along the ropes that bound him. His arms were bound behind his back, crossed one on top of the other. His cock and balls were held snugly in the embrace of the rope and it was driving Yami crazy. He was already incredibly hard.

"What do you say I move you into a more comfortable position," Yuugi said. He put his foot on Yami's shoulder and pushed him over so that he fell ungracefully onto his side. Yami grunted in pain. "Is that better for you?"

Yami's bottom was sore from sitting on the floor for so long. In that sense, it was a bit better to have changed position. In the sense that half his body had slammed to the floor, not so much. Also, not enough. Yami wanted more. He wanted a lot more. Yami could not beg, so he tried to move.

"Stop that!" Yuugi planted his foot on Yami's side. "You move when I say you can move."

Yuugi pressed a wooden paddle to Yami's rear. He couldn't stop the shiver that preemptively ran down his spine. 

"Say when," Yuugi told him with a laugh. Then the paddle was pulled away from him and slammed forcefully into his rear. Yami gasped behind the gag before a quick follow-up of three hits caused him to groan and jump. Yuugi pressed his foot down harder on Yami's side. "How worthless are you that you can't even stay still?" Yuugi asked him. 

Yami wasn't sure it was better or worse that Yuugi sounded so friendly while berating him. 

"If you won't even bother to do what I say," Yuugi continued, adding another harder hit to his rear to emphasize his words, "maybe I should just leave you here..."

Yami forced his body to be incredibly still, even when Yuugi rained down the next few hits. He couldn't keep the whimpers and moans contained, but he wasn't ordered to do that. 

"That's better," Yuugi said. He removed his foot from Yami's side for a moment before kicking him onto his back. "Then again," he heard a clatter in the background. "I'm bored with this." 

Yami whimpered. He needed so badly so many things and he couldn't beg Yuugi for any of it. He remembered to stay still, but only just. There were only so many ways he could beg for attention without words. 

Yuugi sighed. "You're so boring, Yami." He could hear Yuugi walking away from him. "I think I'll just go."

Yami's thoughts warred with each other for a long moment. Desperation got the better of him. He didn't want to be alone. Not today. Not now. He couldn't speak, but there were always ways to beg for attention. Yami forced his entire body to jerk. 

"I warned you, Yami." Yuugi sounded so disappointed with him that he could just turn to filth and rot on the spot. "Now I have to punish you."

Yami could nearly weep with relief. A hand pressed gently against his throat. It wouldn't stay gentle, he knew. 

"Deep breaths, Yami." 

That was the only warning he got before Yuugi squeezed. 


	2. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposed: exhibitionism, verbal humilliation, dom/sub, masturbation  
> Yami, Yuugi, Mokuba

Yami stretched as the warm water of the shower fell onto his skin. He moaned as he felt the tension in his muscles and the stiffness of his body slowly drain away. The warm water did wonders for his body, making him relax more and more every moment. He hadn't even begun the process of washing his body yet, just running his hands along his skin and indulging in the feeling. From the collar resting snuggly around his neck, to his slightly stiffening nipples, to his hardening cock. He groaned again as he brush a hand over his growing erection once, twice, closing his eyes as he began to indulge himself further and wrap his hand around the stiff apendage.

It was only a few moments later that he heard the shower curtain pulled back and Yami opened his eyes quickly. He barely had time to register what he saw before Yuugi's hand was reaching up to his collar and yanking Yami down to his level. Yami was breathless as he looked into Yugi's eyes.

"What do you think you're doing, Yami?" Yuugi's smile was both pleasant and terrifying. Yami swallowed before he answered.

"Showering," Yami told him. 

"Oh, really?" Yuugi asked. "You always moan while you shower?" He pulled Yami down further, lowering his voice as he whispered in his ear. "Do you think you can stand there with your hands on your cock without my permission?"

"No..."

"No, what?"

"No, Master."

"That's right." Yuugi released him and stepped back. "Well if you're so anxious to show off, I may as well let you."

Yuugi pulled the curtain back even further and looked at Yami expectedly. Hesitantly, Yami moved his hand down his body.

"No," Yuugi said. Yami froze immediately. "On your knees."

Yami dropped to his knees immediately. Not knowing what else to do without Yuugi giving him further instructions, Yami tentatively rested his hands on his thighs. Yuugi looked down on Yami with unimpressed eyes. Slowly, a smile spread over his lips. "You know, I was trying to have company. It would be a shame to leave Mokaba sitting in the other room, don't you think?"

Yami's eyes widened. A small whine squeezed itself from his throat, but he didn't speak.

"You don't want to be rude, do you Yami?" Yuugi he asked him in a sweet tone. Yami's cheeks reddened slightly as he shook his head.

"That's good," Yuugi told him. "Eyes down, Yami."

Yami looked at the ground, lowering one head as another slowly begin to rise.

"Hey, Mokuba!" Yuugi yelled, eyes glued to Yami. "Would you come here?"

"What is it?" Mokuba asked as he entered the room.

"Yami wants to show us something," Yuugi said. "Isn't that right, Yami?"

"Yes..." Yami answered. He shivered slightly, the warm water of the shower was starting to become cold, but he didn't make any attempt to remove himself from the spray of water.

"Go on, then. Show us." Yuugi commanded.

Yami shivered again, but not from the cold this time. He hesitated.

"Don't waste our time, Yami." Yuugi urged. "You're barely worth it as it is."

Yami moaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He closed his eyes as he began to stroke himself.

"I think he's ignoring us," Mokuba said. "I can't believe how bad his manners are."

"You would think he'd at least look at his company," Yuugi said in a mocking tone. Yami opened his eyes and looked at Yuugi. "I'm not the guest here." Yami didn't hesitate as he moved his gaze to Mokuba.

"Your posture is terrible," Mokuba told him. "That's not very appealing."

Yami straighted his body out at that prompt. His moans started to become louder as he continues stroking himself, his hand starting to pick up speed. The water had turned cold, but it only served to excite him more.

"Slowly, Yami, it's no fun if you finish too soon." Yami whined as he slowed his stroked. He kept his back straight, kept his movements slow and languid, kept his eyes on Mokuba. He began to fidgit as he got closer to release, fighting the urge to speed up or relaxes posture, trying not to buck into his hand.

Yuugi inclined his head as he inspected Yami. Yami's cheeks were red, his body wet from the cascade of water falling over him, body trembling periodically.

"What do you think, Mokuba? Should we reward his hard work?"

Mokuba stepped forward, placing one foot on the edge of the tub and leaning down over Yami. He tugged on Yami's collar to bring him closer and Yami gasped. "Come on, Yami, make it good."

"Impress us, Yami." Yuugi added.

Yami groaned, looking straight into Mokuba's eyes as he found his release. Mokuba leaned forward to claim his lips, slipping his tongue inside Yami's mouth and ravishing it. One hand took hold of Yami's hair, pulling it tightly and making him moan louder. His body trembled as his orgasm rushed through him, his eyes sliding closed.

Mokuba pulled away slowly and Yami opened his eyes in time to see Mokuba lick his lips. Then Mokuba pulled him back by his hair and tossed him aside. Yami barely brought his hands up in time to catch himself. "Clean yourself, Yami. You're disgusting."

"And clean up the mess you made," Yuugi added, turning away from him.

Another shiver went through Yami's body as he answered. "Yes, Master."

"Good boy," Yuugi told him.

"Be careful," Mokuba warranted as he joined Yuugi by the door. "Don't want to spoil him."

Yuugi closed the door behind them, leaving Yami alone.


	3. Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pact: Pre-relationship, Relationship negotiations  
> Yami, Yuugi  
> (Nothing kinky this time, just talking)

Yuugi would break first, Yami was sure of it. They were staring into each other's eyes; Yami's gaze cool and collected while Yuugi's was worried. He was frowning as he stared at Yami, trying to parse out his thoughts and emotions, but also being overrun by his own. 

It was sitting on the table between them. For different reasons, they were both trying not to look at it. Yami wanted to appear less eager than he was, even if Yuugi would be able to see through his thin veneer if he put a modicum of effort into the task. He wouldn't. 

Yuugi's reason was simply that he was taken off guard by the request. 

Yami took out a cigarette and lit it without looking away. There was nothing else he needed to look at it. He knew what lie between them. He could find his lighter and smokes with his eyes closed. This was a waiting game.

Finally, Yuugi found his voice and spoke. "I'm not going to hit you with that."

Yami took a long drag on his cigarette. This would be the tricky part. He started simply. "Why?"

Yuugi's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Wha-? What do you mean why?"

Yami gave him a look that suggested Yuugi was being obtuse. "It's a request, Yuugi, it's not a big deal."

"You want me to hit you with a whip!" Yuugi exclaimed.

Yami shrugged. "Not right away."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Yuugi demanded.

"There are other things you can do. Other things that I want." Yami looked away then, trying to avoid revealing how much this meant to him. He used to opportunity to blow smoke creating a literal smokescreen to hide in. "If you're willing to do them."

Yuugi's worried slowly morphed into confusion. He tilted his head slightly and furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about Yami?"

Yami reached out to touch the collar that rested around Yuugi's neck, tugging it slightly. "Come now, Yuugi, you have to have some idea what I mean." He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "You have to have been curious."

Yuugi blushed and looked away. "It's... just a fashion statement."

"For now, perhaps. It doesn't have to be." Yami ran a finger along his own unadorned neck. "You've always been interested in my status as a pharaoh. This is a chance for you to be the pharaoh between us."

Yuugi looked up at that, expression slightly sheepish. "Well, maybe I've been curious..."

Yami smiled at him. "It doesn't have to be the whip. It can be rope or a paddle. It can just be you ordering me around. We'll figure it out. If you're willing."

"This is really something you want?" Yuugi asked sincerely.

"Yes," Yami answered. "The question is whether or not this is something you want."

Yuugi was quiet as he thought about this. Yami put out his cigarette and waited patiently. 

"I... I think that it is," Yuugi answered.


	4. Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leverage: BDSM Scene, Dom/Sub, Bondage, spankings, exhibitionism, humiliation, orgasm delay/denial  
> Yami/Marik

There was a camera flash.

Yami whined, trying to turn his face away from the light, but there was nowhere that he could hide. Yami's face was flush, eyes half lidded with desire. His arms were bound above his head and affixed to the ceiling, the rope short enough that it forced him onto his toes to ease the strain. His naked body was glistening with sweat and his cock strained with desire.

There was another flash.

Yami moaned softly. "Marik, no..."

Marik laughed, his grin wide and gleeful. "I can't help it, Yami. You make such a pretty picture." Marik ran his hand down Yami's chest, tracing his muscles and resting his hand briefly on Yami's hip. He walked around to Yami's backside, trailing his fingers along the red bruises on his back. Yami flinched, moaned, tried to press closer into Marik's hands. Marik let out a contented sigh.

He drew back from Yami as he readied his camera again. Watching the renewed flush color Yami's cheek when he saw and heard the camera was a delight. "Honestly, you're so stunning Yami."

"Marik..." Yami's voice was low with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. 

"What would your friends think if they saw you this way?" Marik asked. He moved to Yami's side and crouched, positioning the camera at an angle and waiting for Yami to look before taking a picture of his proud cock. "Strung up and hard as a rock. Wanton and writhing in place. Maybe I should show them what their pharaoh is really like."

A pause and Yami stiffened for a moment. "You... you wouldn't do that..."

"Why shouldn't I?" Marik asked. He drew a finger along Yami's cock, watching the man shudder and hiss in pleasure.

"Marik please," Yami whined again.

Marik's grin grew. "Who do you think would want to see this beautiful thing?" He asked. "You think Anzu's ever wondered what she might be missing? Perhaps I should show her."

Yami grew harder beneath Marik's soft, teasing strokes. "Don't..."

"Or maybe I should demonstrate to them how much of a cock whore you are?" Marik pondered aloud. "Maybe I should fuck you in the middle of the game shop."

Yami groaned, trying to thrust his cock further into Marik's hands without loosing his footing. Marik didn't let him.

"Can you imagine the look on Yuugi's face if he saw that?" Marik asked. "Saw you bent over the counter and taking my cock up your ass."

Another whine. "Marik please..."

"Think he would be scandalized?" Marik went on. "Jealous? Think of the things he might say to you?"

"Marik, please," Yami begged. "I can't... I can't..."

"Can't what, Yami?" Marik questioned, wrapping his fingers around his straining cock. "Can't imagine it? Let me paint you a picture. Maybe I don't bend you over the counter. Maybe I put you on your knees and have you suck me off while I talk to the customers. Let them all see what that pretty mouth of your can do."

Yami was thrusting into his hand desperately, biting his lip. He was so excited that he slipped once or twice, scrambling for purchase to alleviate the instant strain on his arms and shoulders. Marik let it continue until Yami was on the edge, panting heavily, then he stopped touching him.

"No..." Yami groaned, nearly sobbing. "Marik, don't stop."

"You aren't the one in control here, Yami." Marik answered simply, taking another picture of his cock. Then he stood up to capture the longing, desperate, deeply aroused look on Yami's face. "You come when I say you do."

Marik walked away from him, moving to the far table to put down the camera. He picked up the belt he had used earlier in the night, but he didn't go back to Yami. Not yet. He waited to hear the desperate note in the man's voice when he called out.

"I'm sorry."

Marik smiled. That was what he needed to hear. He approached. "I am a generous man, Yami. I forgive you. Of course I do!" He cradled Yami's face with one hand. Yami craved touch like a man starving and Marik liked to give it to him. Yami closed his eyes, leaning into Maril's hand. Yami didn't like to admit how much he enjoyed small things like this, but Marik knew. If only the man would let him, Marik would spoil and Pamper Yami like this all the time.

"I still have to punish you, though." Marik said to remind them both. Yami opened his eyes to look at Marik. They were so lovely and vulnerable. Marik would do anything for those eyes. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

Marik stepped back, dropping his hand from Yami's face and walking around him. The man was still straining on his tip toes and Marik would have to let him down soon. Soon... but not yet. He snapped the belt in his hands, causing Yami to jerk in surprise and lose his footing. He swore at the harsh tug of the ropes keeping him upright. He regained his footing in short order.

"I want you to thank me, Yami, after every strike. You understand?"

Yami was calming his breathing. Marik waited patiently for his response. Once Yami had steadied himself, he answered. "Yes."

"One lash for every offensive letter out of your mouth," Marik explained. "That will be eight lashes. Do you accept your punishment, Yami?"

"Yes."

"Good," Marik told him. With one fluid motion he he raised his arm and brought the belt down across Yami's back. There was a satisfying snap as leather connected with flesh. Yami yelped, body jerking forward. "You have something to tell me?"

"Thank you, Marik." Yami sounded breathless. It was only going to get better from here.

"You're welcome, Yami." Marik snapped the belt diagonally across the previous mark. He watched the muscles in Yami's back as they tensed and relaxed.

"Thank you, Marik."

"It's my pleasure, Yami." He aimed his next strike at Yami's rear. Yami swore loudly as the belt landed across both cheeks, barely keeping his balance as he jerked forward. Marik stepped forward and palmed Yami's red rear roughly, smiling at the resulting moan. "Thank you,. Marik." The lust in Yami's voice was very clear.

"Anything for you, Yami."

Marik aimed the next two strikes at Yami's thighs, resulting in a higher pitched sound from the man, and the two after that came down on his back, resulting in moans each. Each time Yami thanked him and each time Marik responded in turn.

For the last, Marik wanted to look into Yami's eyes. He trailed his hands over each of the bruises. as he walked around Yami's body. The man was gorgeous with lust blown pupils and a body glistening with sweat. Marik lifted Yami's chin with a finger and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

"Last one."

Yami leaned back in to continue the kiss and Marik let him. He would indulge these lips a thousand times over, a thousand ways, if they would only ask.

Marik pulled back, snapped the belt. "Any request?"

Yami shook his head. Marik expected as much. Yami preferred to let others make the decisions. Marik could do that for him. Taking a step back, he let his eyes roam over Yami's skin. He readied the belt. "Head up," HE commanded. Yami did as he was told and Marik brought the belt down across his nipples.

Yami hissed in pain, body stiffening. He shook as he let out a shuddering breath. "Thank you, Marik."

"You deserve it, Yami." Marik answered. He smiled before turning back to the table and going to put down the belt. He picked up the camera and called over his shoulder. "This time, Yami, if you are a good model you will be rewarded with your release."

Yami shuddered. "Thank you, Marik."

Marik turned to face Yami, walking up to him slowly. "Smile for the camera."


	5. Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Affection: Aftercare, mentions of knifeplay, rough sex, choking, and spanking  
> Marik/Yami

Yami hissed in pain as he lowered himself in the hot water. He leaned on Marik as the man helped him down until he was finally sitting. He hissed again as his rear end came into contact with the hard tub, feeling the soreness flare up spectacularly.

"Is it too hot?" Marik asked him.

"Yes," Yami answered. He was also too sore, too sensitive, and too recently fucked to care. He kept that part to himself though.

Marik leaned forward from his position outside the tub to adjust the water. His eyes were bright with adoration as he turned back toward Yami. "Better?"

"Yes."

Yami's entire body was throbbing with pain. He was sore everywhere, from the top of his head which had slammed into the headboard a few times to the tips of his toes from trying to balance on them so long. It was fucking glorious. Yami had a laundry list of kinks and he was wearing most of them on his skin.

"Close your eyes," Marik said as he filled a pitcher of water. Yami complied without question. There was a small shuffling sound as Marik presumably moved closer before a cascade of warm water came down over his head. Yami hummed in pleasure.

Marik loved to dote on him and Yami usually enjoyed letting him. It felt like a reward he could give to Marik for putting up with him. Not that Marik wasn't always overly wager to put up with, but sometimes Yami liked indulging other people. It helped that this was also an indulgence to himself. So Yami allowed the man to pamper and fuss over him. Marik deserved. He had done nearly everything to Yami this time. His eyes were still sensitive to light after being blindfolded for so long and his bottom was still sore from being spanked. His throat ached from screaming and from Marik's hands around his neck, and his back was bloodied from both nails and knives, though mostly the former.

Yami sighed happily at the memories, sinking further into the water.

"I'm going to wash your hair," Marik told him.

Yami hummed in acknowledgement. He probably needed it to wash out the sweat all on it's own, not to mention all of the other body fluids that probably ended up there. It would be unpleasant to find that blood had stuck to his hair without his knowledge. It felt rather nice to simply submit himself to Marik's fussing. He poured a generous amount of shampoo into Yami's hair, and he shivered from the coldness of it. Marik gently massaged his scalp as he worked Yami's hair into a lather, hands moving slowly and thoroughly. He was rinsed, lathered, and rinsed again. It was soothing.

"Sit up," Marik told him.

Yami sighed as he reluctantly sat up out of the water, opening his eyes. Marik soap onto a washcloth and began to drag it gently across Yami's chest. 

"When you're ready, I'll do your back."

That was going to hurt. Yami shivered in anticipation. He liked to play rough and Marik always complied. He waited until Marik had soaped up his chest entirely before turning in the tub, offering his back to Marik. Marik tried to be gentle as he washed out the cuts and scratches. Still, the action was not without pain and Yami hissed often. Marik didn't apologize, but he knew that he didn't need to. This was what Yami had asked for, after all. Once he'd washed out every cut and gently massaged the bruises along his back, Marik's hands moved up to his neck. Yami wondered if Marik had squeezed hard enough to leave bruises there too and rather hoped so. It would be nice to look at them later.

Marik slid the cloth Yami's shoulders and down his arms, lifting them to get under his arms and being careful with his bruised wrist.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Yami said. He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it now. Maybe it was in response to reverent look on Marik's face. 

"I know," Marik answered. Nothing more. He didn't need to maker excuses for his desire, after all.

Yami wasn't going to try and talk him out of it either, not when he liked the attention. Even if he didn't always want to admit that that was the case.

"You'll have to get out so I can treat the rest of the cuts," Marik told him. He filled the pitcher of water again and poured it over Yami's skin to rinse of the soap. First the back, then the front.

"I know."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the water as Marik poured it over him a few more times. A kiss was pressed softly to his lips. Yami smiled beneath it, said nothing, enjoyed the soothing feel of warm water on his skin.


	6. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legacy: Family bonding (loosely speaking)  
> Mokuba & Seto

This was awkward. The ghost of happier times and fond memories stood around him, taunting him, and the silence of the room was heavy. The walls held paintings that he'd spent his childhood talking to, the floor was covered by carpets he'd spent a lifetime  looking at. The chandelier danced above him, trying to charm him with the nostalgia such a scene could invoke.

It didn't.

The ghost that haunted him the most sat across from him at the table. The ghost of his brother, once kind and concerned at least where Mokuba was concerned, was now only a hard shell. Distant and cold. This was what everyone had always seen when they'd looked at Seto. An aura of power, a coldness to his eyes, the sternness of his expression. Always standing too far away for Mokuba to touch.

A ghost of familiar love. Maybe even if he could touch Seto, his hand would go right through him. This stranger poorly pretending to be his brother while also not bothering to pretend at all.

"Is something the matter," Mokuba?" Seto's eyes were on him. He had paused in his eating, frozen like an automaton unable to continue executing it's present programming, utensils paused poised mid-motion. Seto's gaze was scrutinizing, trying to ascertain the answer for himself despite having asked.

Honestly, Mokuba was kind of surprised that Seto bothered to notice him at all.

"What makes you ask?" Mokuba questioned. He didn't feel like trying to fight Seto's intense gaze. He looked down at his dinner instead, poking at it with as much enthusiasm as he was currently feeling for Seto.

"You were staring," Seto told him. There was mild disapproval in his voice, but something else as well.

Oh. He should know better than that. He was suppose to know how to keep his composure, keep his emotions under wraps. He didn't want to do that, though. Rather, he did not feel that he should have to when he was at a private dinner with his big brother.

"Sorry," Mokuba told him. "It's nothing." Mokuba should be better than this. He should take a note from Seto. Wrap up his feelings and hide them away in a box. Close his eyes and pretend he's not dining with an automaton imitation of his brother, not sitting across from a ghost of his past. Pretend, like Seto could pretend, that he was sharing a meal with his brother instead of sitting in silence with a stranger.

"Mokuba." Seto's gaze was nearly uncertain when Mokuba looked up. His brother didn't speak right away. Seto had never moved on anyone's time but his own and it seemed that even this replica could do that much. He looked like there was a sour taste in his mouth as he tried to work out what he wanted to say. "You've been... doing well."Seto told him. "With the company." A pause, then Seto added, "I'm proud of you."

Mokuba nearly dropped his fork. It had been years since he'd heard a kind word from his brother, let alone praise. Yes, it was a compliment that was work related and Seto was always talking about work, but it was something! It was real. It was the first sign that Mokuba could see that his brother was more than just a ghost of himself. 

And that meant that maybe it was time that Mokuba stopped pretending to be a ghost his past self, too, and actually try.

"Thanks, Seto."

Seto's response was almost a mumble as he returned to his food. Mokuba was pretty sure he saw a slight blush on Seto's cheeks and Mokuba smiled at the humanizing touch. 


	7. Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentiment: Aftercare  
> Yami/Marik

Yami hissed, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth. His body jumped and he held himself tense and still. His fist were clenched and his eyes were closed as he laid halfway bent over the bed. His back was stinging, his limbs were sore, and his mind was a haze of pleasure and pain. He wasn't focused on anything, just reacting to things that were done to him as Marik manipulated his body.

"Does it hurt?" Marik asked him, voice as soft as a whisper. The tone was soothing and having the familiar sound in his ear while he was so out of it put him at ease. Yami made a humming sound in response, but he wasn't certain as to what he meant to convey. Marik brushed the hair away from Yami's forehead where it begun to stick with sweat, then he brushed his lips against Yami's temple in an action that was more a caress than a kiss. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you," Marik promised.

Marik pulled back, dragging a finger down Yami's side as he surveyed the cuts that littered his back. There was a scattering of bright red lines decorating pale skin, begging to be tended. Marik waited for Yami's body to fully uncoil from it's earlier tension, then he poured antiseptic over the cuts.

Yami hissed again, tensing and holding that tension like a held breath. Marik loved watching Yami this way, full of tension and relaxation both. He leaned down to nuzzle Yami, but didn't linger as long as he did earlier. Marik grabbed the towel that he'd left resting in the small of Yami's back and blotted away the access liquid, carefully avoiding touching the cuts. Marik placed the towel off to the side and moved over to the nightstand to fetch a cup of water. He held the cup to Yami's lips.

"Here, Yami, have a drink." Marik slowly tipped the cup, watching carefully as Yami took small sips. After a few moments, he pulled the cup away and placed it back on the table. "How do you feel, Yami?"

Yami replied with another pleasant hum, but his eyes were starting to clear.

Marik smiled at him, but he wasn't certain that Yami was paying enough attention to him to notice. Lightly, he trailed a finger down Yami's back, watching as he gasped with the sudden sensation. "You can climb on the bed properly now."

Yami crawled to the middle of the bed, laying on his stomach and closing his eyes. Marik joined him, pulling Yami into his arms and letting him rest on his chest.

"You enjoy this," Yami said softly. He meant it as an accusation, but he didn't give the statement enough force to come off that way.

"I do enjoy this," Marik agreed. He brushed his hand down Yami's cheek affectionately. "Now that you're wounded and tired, you can stop pretending that you're not enjoying it just as much."

Yami scoffed. "Pretending."

Marik smiled. "I've already given you what you needed, you've got the soreness to prove it, so just enjoy my doting. Enjoy the fact that you can soak up all my attention and you don't need to do anything in return."

Yami didn't say anything in return, but his body relaxed all the same.


	8. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friction: Public handjobs  
> Yami/Mokuba

The club was loud and dark. Every few seconds flashes of colored light would shade his vision, but it didn't disrupt the intimacy of being shrouded in shadows. The music was so loud that he couldn't hear himself moan, but he could feel the rumbling in Mokuba's throat when he placed a hand on the side of his neck. His own throat still burned from the shots he'd downed not minutes ago and he could taste the sweetness of Mokuba's drink lingering on his lips.

The room was packed with people, making it easy and inconspicuous to crowd together in a corner. Their legs were entwined as they moved against each other with frenzied motions. It was a desperate mockery of dancing, but their goal wasn't really to dance. It was to chase the friction, the pleasure, that they both desperately wanted.

Yami was pressed against the wall, one hand tangled in Mokuba's hair as he dragged teeth and tongue along Yami's neck. He would certainly have marks all over the area tomorrow, trophies to remind him of a well spent night. He pulled Mokuba's head closer, encouraging him to be rougher and harder. With enough drinks Mokuba forgot that he wanted to be soft and careful all the time. Yami didn't know if Mokuba had had enough drinks, but he did know that no one would notice if Yami melted into a puddle of desperation and desire, so he would encourage Mokuba to get him there.

Mokuba's hands began to tug at Yami's pants. Yami wasn't surprised when his button came undone and his zipper went down. He expected Mokuba to slid a hand into his jeans, for them both to struggle for a good grip within the confined space. Instead, he found himself startled and embarrassed as Mokuba freed Yami from his pants entirely.

For a moment Yami stood utterly frozen. His breath hitched, his cheeks burned, his hands tightened their grip where they rested on Mokuba. His eyes widened, but he didn't take in his surroundings. Mokuba's name came out in a hoarse, uncertain whisper, but the music completely swallowed the sound.

Then Mokuba wrapped his hand around Yami's cock and stroked, causing the reservations to vanish instantly. The frantic pace from earlier returned. Yami's hips were jerking forward into Mokuba's hand, and the man was handling Yami's cock with fast, firm strokes. Yami stopped thinking. He tugged firmly on Mokuba's hair, tilting his hand back for a kiss and moaning into Mokuba's mouth.

Mokuba grabbed Yami's hand and shoved it down his pants. The angle was awkward. Mokuba wouldn't appreciate it if he was exposed like Yami was, so he resigned himself to the awkward fumbling. They were so far gone that he doubted it would matter.

Mokuba was viciously kissing him, biting Yami's lip and stealing his tongue. Yami loved it. Then Mokuba shoved him back against the wall, forced his head to the side, and bit Yami's neck--hard. Yami was gone. He fell over the edge right then and there, spilling into Mokuba's hand with a shout and a whimper.

Mokuba seemed to enjoy the show, since he was right on Yami's heels with his own release. They spent a few moments panting, trying to catch their breaths before attempting to put themselves back in order. Once they were both tucked in and zipped up, Mokuba grabbed Yami by his shirt and pulled him close enough that his lips brushed Yami's ear when he spoke. "Let's get out of here so I can fuck you properly."

Yami positively trembled. "Gladly."


	9. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Power: BDSM scene, spanking, Dom/sub,  
> Yami/Mokuba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Ziven~

Yami was thrumming with a combination of anxiousness and excitement. He stood in the middle of the room, eyes trained on Mokuba as he walked in a circle around him. Mokuba's eyes were critical and judging. For a brief moment Makuba met his gaze, causing electricity to jolt through him as Mokuba's gaze flickered over him quickly before looking away entirely, dismissing him. The dismissal created an immediate and intense longing for the other's attention and Yami felt like he was waiting on pins and needles for that attention to return to him.

Mokuba stopped circling him, keeping his back to Yami as he ordered, "Strip."

Yami wasted no time as he struggled out of his clothing as quickly as possible. He tossed off his shirt and jacket in one go, fumbled with his fly and nearly tripped as he tried to step out of his pants. He was too eager, he knew, desperate in the face of Mokuba's clear displeasure and inattention. He couldn't help it and he wasn't trying to hide it.

Mokuba turned slightly, but not to look at Yami. He lept his eyes on the floor, spotting Yami's discarding clothing and giving another order. "Fold them."

A flash of irritation sparked in Yami, causing him to frown as he went about this menial task. He gathered up and folded his clothing, setting them aside, waiting impatiently to receive the attention he desired.

"On your knees."

Yami dropped like stone. His knees throbbed from the impact and Yami couldn't care less.

"Hands behind your back."

Yami did as he was told, hanging on Mokuba's every order. His begging was practically begging for Mokuba's attention, longing for it, and he waited with baited breath.

"Do you know why you're here?" Mokuba asked. There was ice in his voice.

Yami shivered. "Yes."

"Tell me."

Yami licked his lips. "I broke one of your rules. I spoke without permission."

"That's right," Mokuba said. "And what's the punishment for that?"

Yami was pretty sure he would scream if Mokuba didn't look at him soon. "Paddle," he answered.

"Correct." Finally, Mokuba tuned to look at him. He observed his posture carefully, eyes trailing over Yami's entire body before meeting Yami's gaze. "Lean forward."

Yami leaned forward to make his rear more accessible, keeping his hands behind his back since mokuba didn't say he was allowed to move them. He folded one arm over the other, holding his elbows, and waited. This position would not be easy to hold once Mokuba began, but there was an inherent thrill to near impossible task. A need to obey battling the tension of inevitable failure and punishment.

Mokuba walked forward, picking up the paddle as he approached. He placed it under Yami's chin and lifted his face. "Head up. If you move I'll add two hits to each thigh. If you fall over, I'll start back from the beginning. Understood?"

"Yes," Yami moaned. He was keenly aware that Mokuba had yet to touch him anyway. His cock was already stiff and straining, begging for attention that Yami knew he would not be getting.

"After each hit you will thank me and beg for forgiveness."

"Yes."

Mokuba nodded and moved behind him. "We'll start with ten."

There was no warning as Mokuba slammed the paddle into Yami's rear, resulting in a loud smacking sound and a blossom of pain. Yami gasped, swallowing the pain and pleasure as he said, "Thank you, Mokuba. Please forgive me."

"No," Mokuba said simply before rearing back and smacking his rear again. It stung and the sound of the smack affected him almost as much as the impact of the blow.

"Thank you, Mokuba. Please, forgive me."

This time Mokuba didn't bother to answer as he struck his bottom again. Yami hissed as the blow landed on the opposite cheek, fresh pain blooming aross his skin.

"Thank you, Mokuba. Please, please forgive me."

"Why should I?" Mokuba asked, striking the same place again and getting a whimper out of Yami.

"Thank you, Mokuba. I... am sorry." Yami's voice stuttered on the apology, unsure of it's sincerity or if the apology would be desired. "Please grant me your forgiveness."

"Not good enough," Mokuba told him. The paddle came down on the center of his ass, catching Yami off guard and making his entire body jerk as he cried out.

"Ah!"

"Oh, Yami," Mpkuba sighed, a false sympathy in his voice. "What did I tell you about moving?" Mokuba moved around to the front of Yami's body. He placed the paddle on Yami's thigh, making his breath hitch at the tool's closeness to his cock. If Mokuba wasn't careful, the strikes could end up hitting a little too close to home. A shiver went down Yami's spine and he relished the feeling of trepidation. "Well?"

"That I was not to move or I would be punished," Yami answered.

"Correct."

There was no warning as two quick blows rained down on one thigh and Yami practically yelped in surprise. Mokuba waited before attacking the other thigh, watching Yami until his body relaxed again. He delivered two sharp taps to his other thigh in quick succession, and Yami cried out again.

"You owe me something Yami."

"Thank you, Mokuba." Yami tried to catch Mokuba's eyes, but he was busy sweeping an assessing gaze over Yami's body. "I humbly beg your forgiveness."

"That's a bit better," Mokuba said. "Keep working on it."

The pattern continued for the rest of the lashes, Mokuba varying the force of the blows and Yami thanking him and begging him for forgiveness. Afterwards, when Yami was panting with a sore bottom, stiff arms, and a throbbing pain in his knees, Mokuba reached out to plae a hand on Yami's head.

"I forgive you," Mokuba told him.

The tension in Yami's body left him all at once as he leaned entirely against Mokuba's legs. Yami shivered as Mokuba ran his hands down the sides of Yami face, cupping his cheeks, and sliding his hands down Yami's neck and shoulders.

"Get on the bed," Mokuba said softly. Yami was slow to rise as he pulled himself onto the bed and collapsed on his stomach. Mokuba got a glass of water and brought it to the bed.

"Here, drink." Mokuba kept hold of the glass, tipping it forward for Yami to drink. "How do you feel?"

Yami's answer was a visible tremble and a deep sigh. He nuzzled Mokuba's hand and he gave Yami the touch he craved, stroking one hand up and down his spine.

"You did good, Yami," Mokuba told him. "Very good."


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust: BDSM scene, verbal humiliation, exhibitionism, spankings, blindfolds, leash and collar,  
> Yami/Yuugi,Yami/Mokuba, Yami/Marik

There was a slight chill in the air. Yami could feel it raise the hairs on his bare arms and legs as he keeled at Yuugi's feet. His heart beat was loud in his ears and the excitement rushing through him kept him from feeling cold. His face was flushed red, with embarrassment, with nervousness, with a whole host of feeling that Yami couldn't, or wouldn't, parse through.

They were in the game shop, Yuugi standing behind the counter and Yami hidden beside him. The shop hadn't been closed and Yami's eyes kept zeroing in on the door. At least, what he could see of it from his position hidden behind the counter.

Yuugi tugged on his leash, the collar around Yami's neck pulling him forward. "Come on, Yami. No one's going to see you from there." A noise of protest slipped from Yami's lips without meaning to. Yuugi reached down to run a hand through Yami's hair soothingly. "Now, now, no need to be shy, right?"

Yami hesitated, his eyes going to the store front once more. It was dark outside. People rarely came to the shop this late, but that didn't mean that no one would. He was fairly certain the point of this was that someone definitely would. The pull on his leash became more insistence, but Yuugi's smile was still bright as he asked, "You don't want me to punish you already, do you?"

Yami shook his head. He wasn't allowed to speak, Yuugi had made that clear before bringing him out here, and he didn't want to know what Yuugi would do to him while wearing that smile. Well, not yet, anyway. He followed at Yuugi's heel to the front on the store and then, directed by a gesture from Yuugi, onto the table.

Yuugi looked him over for half a second before frowning. "You think that sloppy posture will appeal to anyone?" Yuugi asked derisively. The disappointment in Yuugi's voice was as naked as Yami. "On your knees," he commanded. Yami didn't hesitate this time as he followed Yuugi's command. "Legs apart, back straight, arms behind your head."

Yami moved into position easily. A shiver passed through him as Yuugi's eyes dragged across his skin, inspecting him from head to toe. Yami tried not to meet his eyes, sure that Yuugi would have a sardonic comment in place for the action and not wanting to displease him again. That was a losing battle, however.

"Would it kill you to smile, Yami?"

His nervousness sabotaged his attempts at a smile, and the quirk of his lips was weak and small.

Yuugi sighed. "We'll lose customers if you look at them like that." Yuugi stepped away from him briefly, returning with a blindfold in hand. He smiled as he held it up. "Lean down so I can make you presentable."

Yuugi could have easily placed the blindfold on him without Yami having to move, but it wasn't really about ease of access. It was about commanding Yami, making Yami uncomfortable as he bent to Yuugi's will and comfort. He bit his lip as he lowered his body, holding as still as possible. Yuugi tied the blindfold around his eyes. Once he was done, he tapped Yami's shoulder to signal that he could return to his previous position.

"That's better," Yuugi told him, brushing Yami's hair out of his face. "Now you actually look presentable." Yami had a hard time taking pleasure in the praise when it was so heavily dripping with condescension. He could, however, take a strong and perverse pleasure from the condescension itself.

"And what's this?" Yuugi asked with amusement as he flicked his half hard cock. Yami inhaled sharply, face flushing as he felt himself harden further. "Trying to show off, Yami?"

Yami bit his lip, debating whether or not to answer before he settled on shaking his head. Yuugi would be annoyed if he thought Yami was ignoring him.

"I see. You can't control yourself," Yuugi concluded. His voice was heavy wish disappointment once more. Yami barely restrained the whimper that wanted to pass through his lips. "I can't even advertise you as house trained."

Yuugi pulled on his leash, forcing Yami to lower his head, as he slipped the other end around the base of his cock. It was humiliating to be leashed to his own cock. His face grew hot and he bit his lip once more.

Yuugi tapped his lips scoldingly. "Don't damage the merchandise." Yami obeyed. Then he jumped as Yuugi smacked his ass, gasping when he pulled his leash and felt the pull both around his neck and around the base of his cock. He couldn't stop the whimper that broke free from him this time. "Keep your back straight, Yami."

It wasn't an easy position to maintain, but Yami obliged all the same. He straightened his back, attempting to hold the somewhat awkward pose of being bent over, yet stiff as a board. He had to spread his legs wider, his ass sticking out predominantly. He felt vulnerable and exposed.

"Good." Yuugi pat his thigh and Yami's cock twitched at the proximity. Yuugi chuckled. "Save it for the customers."

Yami couldn't imagine Yuugi saying anything less comforting than that.

The bell above the door rang and Yami felt his body stiffen in fear and embarrassment as he heard someone enter. He could feel his cock twitching as his fear strengthened and he squeezed his eyes closed behind the blindfold. He strained his ears for any clues as to who had entered.

"Welcome!" Yuugi greeted cheerfully. "What can I help you with?"

"Just browsing for now." Yami recognized that voice. It was Mokuba. Rather than relax at the familiarity, Yami felt himself immediately tensing. He couldn't hear any footsteps, so it came as a surprise when a finger ran down his spine, making him jerk slightly. "What's this?" There was an almost clinical detachment to his voice. It made Yami shiver, uncomfortable anticipation churning in his gut.

"This is our special item of the day," Yuugi answered. "Does it interest you?"

An item, Yuugi called him. Yami let his fingers dig into his scalp where they were still behind his head. He closed his eyes, but it didn't hide him from the humiliation.

Mokuba hummed noncommittally as his finger gently stroked Yami's cock. Yami whimpered as his cock jumped. He swallowed thickly, pressing his lips together and trying to force himself not to move. "Can I try it out here?"

"Feel free," Yuugi told him.

Mokuba's fingers gently teased the head of Yami's cock. His breath became uneven and he struggled to remain still beneath the attention. The touches were slow and light, tortuous. He longed to rut against the grip teasing him, dying for more friction. He wanted a hole to open up and swallow him.

The bell rang again. Yami's heart jumped into his throat. He longed to beg them not to look at him, to beg Yuugi to end this. His breath became uneven and his cock stood straighter under the assumed attention.

"Welcome! Please have a look around," Yuugi greeted. Yami clung to the sound of Yuugi's voice, taking comfort from his continued presence even if he was further away than Yami would have liked. "As you can see, another customer is doing a demonstration of the item of the day."

Yami didn't hear the new comer answer and couldn't tell where they were, but he could feel himself being watched. Not that he knew who was watching him. It could be this mystery person, it could be Mokuba, it could even be Yuugi. He wanted badly to squirm beneath the attention, but resisted. Barely. Then Mokuba's hand wrapped entirely around Yami's cock. Yami inhaled sharply, jerking upright only to be stopped by the pull of his leash.

Yuugi sighed deeply. "He's not well trained yet," he explained. "But he responds well to pain."

Yami felt a hard smack against his rear, but he had no indication of who's hand it was. Surely it was too soft to be Yuugi? Was it Mokuba? Was it the stranger, already helping himself to Yami's body?

"At least he's responsive," Mokuba said, firming his grip on Yami's cock as he stroked more rapidly. "Even if he lacks discipline, I suppose he could he could be good for a laugh."

The smacks to his rear continued. Yami couldn't stop the muffled gasps and moans that began to escape him. He was suddenly grateful that he was blindfolded. He didn't want to see the stares that he could feel burning on his skin, didn't want to know what look Yuugi was giving him. He really didn't want to know what he looked like in this moment, and he wouldn't have put it past Yuugi to have a mirror set up just to show him off better.

A soft clicking noise began in the background.

"You're taking pictures?" Mokuba questioned in surprise. His hand on Yami's cock faltered, echoing the stutter that Yami felt in his chest at the words. The thought of a stranger having pictures of him...like this... Yami would never, could never, live this down. "Is that allowed?"

"It's not a problem," Yuugi told them. He felt a finger up his chin, lifting his head up until he felt the leash tugging tautly around his cock. "Get a good shot of his face. I need to make sure the merchandise looks good."

The next few clicks were closer. Yami whined louder, despite his best efforts, as his embarrassment fed into his pleasure. He could no longer hold still, but his attempts at thrust enough thrust to gain him the friction he desired. His legs were spread to wide and his movement were jerky as the continued smacks to his rear rocked his body. The head of his cock was leaking precum and he practically sobbed with need.

"See what I mean?" Yuugi asked with a disappointed sigh. "Completely unrestrained." A hand fisted itself in his head, grabbing tightly and pulling him forward slightly."I told him that he was supposed to remain silent and still, and look at him!"

Mokuba's thumb rubbed over the head of Yami's cock. "He might not make a very good slave," Mokuba conceived. "But you could probably sell him as a slut."

Yami made another sound and Yuugi tugged on his hair tighter. "Do you like that Yami? Would you like to be Mokuba's slut?" He tugged on the leash around the base of his cock. "Or are you just whining because you're desperate for something else?"

Yami whined louder, his thoughts clouding with his desperation. He felt so close and so needy. His bottom was sore and throbbing from the relentless spanking. His back ached from trying to remain still in such an uncomfortable position. His every jerk put strain on his neck and cock alike. It was glorious. It was awful. He thought that he might lose his mind. His face was burning from the embarrassment of being jerked off on a table, in the store front, by three different people. One of which he didn't even know. His body quaked at the thought.

"It's not good to be so selfish, Yami," Yuugi scolded him. "At least have the manners to ask for what you want."

"Please!" Yami said immediately, only to be rewarded with a slap to the face.

"Didn't I tell you not to speak?" Yuugi scolded angrily.

"Yuugi--"

He was cut off by another slap. "Are you determined to make me look bad?" Yuugi asked. "You can't even do the one thing that I asked you to do?"

"Please, Yuugi," Yami begged, headless of Yami's words. "I need it."

"Is that the best you can do?" Mokuba asked. His grip tight and steady on Yami's cock. "Am I suppose to pay good for this?"

"If you're going to beg, you could at least do it well. This is pathetic," Yuugi said. "At least be worth the money they spent to get here."

"Please, I need to come. I'll do anything. Yuugi, please!"

Another hand reached out to play with balls and a high pitched noise escaped his throat. It felt different from Mokuba's hand, already wrapped around his cock, and Yuugi was in no mood to reward him. He shivered at the thought that a stranger was fondling him so intimately.

"Get a close up of his cock as he comes," Yuugi said.

Another flush of embarrassment filled him as he heard the clicks of a camera. He couldn't stop himself from coming. He groaned as he released, followed quickly by a whimper.

"And now you've made a mess," Yuugi added. "What am I going to do with you." The leash was detached from the collar and removed from around his cock. Yami panted as he tried to catch his breath.

"He's mine, now! Shoo! The both of you." He recognized Marik's voice just before the blindfold was removed. Marik was smiling softly as soon as his face came into view. "Come on, Yami. I'll get you taken care of."

Mokuba leaned again the counter with a grin. "You spoil him, Marik. Yami doesn't deserve it."

"Well, he's mine to spoil," Marik replied. He pulled Yami out of his uncomfortable position, allowing him to lay flat on the table. Yami hissed at the pain to his ass, the slight throbbing in his knees, the ache in his face. It was a good pain, though. Satisfying.

"Don't forget to take off his collar," Yuugi told him. He was standing back, but his eyes were on Yami and Marik, watching them like a mother hen. "Even if he fights you on it."

Marik made an annoyed sound. "I know how to take care of my Pharaoh," he snapped.

Yuugi laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it. I was just trying to help."

Yami relaxed further as Marik's hands roamed over him, massaging into his arms and shoulders, kneading his knees, rubbing soothingly along his sides.

"Do you think you walk, Yami?" Marik asked quietly.

"You don't have to baby me," Yami replied. Despite that, he still leaned on Marik when he pulled him close and helped him off the table. The brief respite had given his legs a chance to rest, but they were definitely still sore.

"We'll clean up out here. Right Mokuba?" Yuugi asked.

"Yeah, sure," Mokuba agreed easily.

"Yes, whatever," Marik replied dismissively. All of his attention was on Yami as he helped him toward the back of the back of the store, ignoring the other two almost entirely.

"You took the pictures?" Yami questioned quietly.

"Of course I did," Marik answered with a wide smile. "I always take pictures of you. You're the only thing worth photographing, really."

Yami laughed tiredly. "Of course."


	11. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacrifice: Introspection  
> Yami/Mokuba

Compromise had come to take on a different meaning for Yami than it once had. Once, long ago, in hazy dreams that could, only in the best of times, be called memories, and in the worst of times were considered nightmares, compromise had been something of a privilege. He would take on the mantel of authority, of control, of power, and exchange he would be granted the love and loyalty of the people. It was a burden he had delighted in, but he could no longer recall how.

With Yugi, the compromise was one of separation. They had once been so close as to be inseparable, literally in the same skin. Yami didn't like to admit how often he longed for the days that had been his reality. The ease of always having a place, a role, a clear path, was something that he missed. Yuugi was good enough to grant him that, to place a collar around Yami's neck and tug him around. The only price that Yami had to pay was the separation of other intimacies. He couldn't bind himself to Yuugi, couldn't follow at his heels. Yami had to live a life of his own if he wanted Yuugi to continue giving him the relief that he offered and Yami had accepted that price, even if he hadn't liked paying it at first.

Things with Marik were almost the opposite. Marik wanted the Pharoh, wanted someone to worship and pamper and devote himself to. Yami need only allow himself to slip into back into his old role, a role that he could no longer stand without feeling like something was writhing inside him, to have Marik treat him however Yami wanted to be treated. Marik could punish him for being the arrogant, narcicistic, brat he often was in the same breath that he worshiped Yami for being those things. And that... Yami could live with that... when he had to. But he couldn't stand the worship when it wasn't combined with punishment.

Or, he could, but that... that was possibly worse.

With Mokuba, things were different. There wasn't really a one to one, for what he gave up and what he received. Mokuba did a lot of things that Yami wanted, needed, to have done to him, and he asked Yami to do a number of things in turn.

It wasn't easy for Yami to submit himself to Mokuba's cuddling afterward. It wasn't like with Marik, where Yami knew that he needed to do it to help bring Marik down. He knew that Mokuba didn't need it, but he asked for it anyway. It was a struggle not to toss about restlessly as he felt his boyfriend pressed up against him. He pressed his fingers into bruises that Mokuba had left on him, hesitantly and with protest, and made sure that the hiss that escaped him was quiet. Nails pressed into the bite marks on his necks, fingertips pushing into sore spots on his thighs, his tongue pressing against his abused and bitten lips.

The tension slowly flowed out of Yami at the reminder of the pain. This was his price and he had to remind himself sometimes what he was paying for and why.

"Are you still awake?" Mokuba asked sleepily, moving closer. His leg bumped against Yami's sore rear and he took in a sharp, shaky breath.

"Yes," he breathed out quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Go back to sleep," Yami told him. He pushed himself subtly back into Mokuba's body, relaxing more at the short stabs of pain. Mokuba didn't understand that these moments, the aftermath where he could poke and prod at every mark and remember exactly what Mokuba had done to him were some of the moments he felt most loved. Especially knowing that it wasn't something that Mokuba enjoyed. "Go to sleep," he repeated quietly.

He got a sleepy moan of assent and Mokuba was likely asleep again before the sound was half out his mouth.


	12. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt: Unhealthy relationships, Introspection, mentions of knife play, choking, rough sex  
> Yami/Marik

There's a gnawing at Marik's soul. Shadows that grab at him, lap at him, tug at his mind and memories when he isn't watching. He can see it, feel it, happening to Yami as well, and that is why he draws him near. Yami isn't made of shadows, he's eaten away by them, and Marik knows that he could find his own solid ground if he could get close to the Pharaoh's light. And once he's there, he can bring Yami out from the dark as well.

Marik watches desperately as Yami crumbles in on himself. He pulls away from the world, hides in blankets of sleep and drink until he thinks he's forgotten. Until he can pretend not to remember why he has hidden, and then he comes to Marik with smiles and kisses and together they shine. It's too brief. It's not right.

Marik takes it anyway.

It doesn't last. It was never going to and Marik isn't surprised when it becomes a pattern. Too often Marik finds Yami hidden away in their bedroom, in the dark, in the bottle, unable to say there is a difference between the two. It hurts him to watch Yami crumbling when all Marik wants to do is build him up.

He doubles down on his efforts to help Yami out of his funk. He gives him everything he can think that Yami would want, things that he thinks a Pharaoh might want, things that Marik himself wants. A new element gets added to their pattern as Yami loudly, violently, rejects Marik's offers and Marik becomes equally loud as he tries to question why.

They shine. It's not the light that Marik wanted, but it's bright. It's alive, writhing and thriving. It's a counter to what Yami usually is when he languishes in the dark. Again, Marik decides to take what he can get. If this is what it takes, moments like camera flashes, to keep Yami from fading into the darkness, then Marik will yell and spend moments and kiss like battles with Pyrrhic victories.

One day, Marik comes home to find Yami flipping a blade in the dark. It's ominous and he isn't sure why. Isn't sure that it matters why when he came home to find his lover in the dark with a knife. Without an obvious conclusion, there is still a tilt to the ground beneath him as he realizes that there is about to be something new again and he isn't sure if he should fear it.

"What are you doing, Yami?" He asks it cautiously, trying not to seem it as he goes to his lover's side.

Yami looks at him as if he didn't know Marik was there. He catches the knife, holds it too tightly in the wrong place. Marik's breath catches and he fights not to take it from Yami by force, knowing without a doubt that it would make the situation worse. Yami is quiet before he offers the handle to Marik. He doesn't immediately take it.

Yami speaks. "I need you to cut me," he tells him. "I need you to hurt me."

The panic is in Marik's eyes, on his tongue. Yami doesn't make him ask.

"So that I don't hurt myself," he tells him. "I need it."

Marik doesn't bother to tell him that he already hurts himself. This is something different, he knows. This is something worse. He remembers the shadows that claw at his own mind, can practically see the things that rip and tear at Yami. He hesitates as he accepts the blade, closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to watch himself when he says, "Okay."

Marik loves Yami more than most things. He makes a list of those things on Yami's back, drawing the knife lightly over Yami's skin, scraping but not cutting, to prepare himself for what he knows will come next. That list includes his sister, his wealth, his happiness, and apparently, Yami's own well being. He's shaking as he tries to process that when Yami finally tells him, "More. You have to make me bleed."

This is next.

Marik starts back at the top of his list, excludes the first item and doesn't allow himself to contemplate if it's true or not. It'll never come up, it doesn't matter, he refuses to carve those characters into Yami's back regardless. He cuts.

It only gets worse from there.

Yami starts to shine again. Only when he's hurt, only when he's in pain. He shines when he cries and Marik has to find new ways to make him cry, because he refuses to cut him every time.

Marik doesn't know who he is sometimes when he has his hands wrapped around Yami's throat, a knife pushing into his skin, a foot grinding down on Yami's face or thigh. He pulls Yami's hair as he cries and calls Yami names while talking to himself. Yami shines. Marik thinks he might be eaten away from the inside. But afterwards when he gets to be soft, clean Yami, repair Yami, cuddle Yami, love Yami, he feels his shine come back and he thinks he's probably fine.

Marik is constantly recounting his list. He tries to keep up with the things that change from one iteration to the other, knows that he doesn't, and isn't sure what it means.

His wealth, his friends, his sanity...

Marik likes to touch the bruises he leaves. It makes Yami hiss and smile, it serves as a reminder that Yami belongs to Marik, chose to belong to Marik, it makes them both happy, he thinks. He kisses his demons away with a smile.

"You shouldn't be giving him what he wants this way," Yuugi tells him. They don't talk much, because no one likes what he and Yami have and no one hesitates to say so. Yami kind of ignores it and kind of let's it eat him up inside. Marik just put it on his list and moves along. He's taken to writing the list on Yami's skin with marker and letting it wash away before Yami can see, watching his fears and concerns go down the drain and telling himself that it's okay.

"It's not really any of your business, is it?" Marik asked. He doesn't want to push Yuugi away. Yuugi still talks to them both and he'd rather keep it that way, but he doesn't want to talk about this either way though.

"You're my friend, Marik. You're both my friends. I just want you both to be happy."

"We are happy," Marik insist. He thinks of shadows and shines and he wants so fiercely that it has to be enough.

"Are you, really?" Yuugi asked it with his big worried eyes and nagging frown and an aura that is so bright that Marik understand why Yami ran from him. Yuugi has destroyed something from every person that has ever stood in his way. Sometimes it's just shadows, Marik has vivid nightmares of the darkness being forcibly torn from him by the short man standing before him like an avenging angel with condemning eyes, but sometimes it's peace of mind and stable footing and all that you have. Marik can't have Yuugi taking away all that he has again. Yami doesn't have enough of himself to lose. Marik has to protect him.

"I'm helping him," Marik says. "Well be fine."

Yuugi doesn't believe him. He pushes until Marik finds himself pushed too far, making an excuse to escape the encounter and avoiding his calls for weeks afterward.

Marik writes the list on his own skin and prays on it. You can't get something for nothing and Marik accepts that.

His sister, his friends, his wealth, his heart, his hands...

"You think you're helping him," Ishizu says. "But is he helping you?"

"I never asked him for anything," Marik replies. Which is true, because all Marik wanted was to have Yami, and he had never asked for any of the things he desperately hoped that he would get.

"Don't you think that you should?" she questions.

Unlike Yuugi, Ishizu says things that make too much sense. She doesn't touch the thing directly, doesn't poke at a wound until it inevitably starts to bruise. She places her thoughts on the table and she waits for him to pick them up, turn them round, and put them in place where they could belong.

Marik kind of hates that about Ishizu, clings to it when he can't hold on to himself. He isn't sure which this is, and therefore doesn't know which way he should decide to feel.

She leaves before he has to and he's pretty sure she won't come back until he does.

That's probably the reason that Marik eventually asks him, "Yami? Are you happy?"

Yami stares at him with dark eyes. Marik can read the answer, doesn't like what he sees, and waits for Yami to answer him in a way that he hopes is better.

Yami doesn't answer. Instead they kiss, they touch, they shine.

It's enough. Marik tells himself that it's enough.


	13. Divergent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Divergent: Unhealthy Relationships, Introspection, mentions of choking  
> Yuugi/Yami

Yami feels cold.

It isn't his body, but it is at the same time. Yuugi has spent nights turning the heat up and piling blankets onto him and climbing into his bed, trying to make the feeling go away. It doesn't. Yuugi knows that it doesn't, because Yuugi feels what Yami does.

Yuugi asks him sometimes, eyes large and wide with that worried expression his friends all tease him for, "Are you cold?"

But Yami only smiles at him, and says, "Don't worry about me, Yuugi." Which isn't an answer. Which is so much of a non answer that it loops back around to being exactly an answer. If the answer was no, he would just say so. But the answer also isn't yes... and Yuugi hasn't worked out what that means yet.

Yuugi holds his hand, holds his hips, holds his throat. Only one of those make Yami feel warm.

Yami ignores him, indulges him, nags him when they hold hands. It doesn't really mean anything to him, doesn't move him, even when Yuugi is gripping as if he's afraid that Yami will disappear. It's already been proven that he won't, right? Yami has his own body know. Yuugi can touch him and hold him now. Yami's not going anywhere. Yuugi sees Yami looking into the mirror as if he knows it too and isn't half as pleased about it.

Yami smiles when he sees Yuugi watching. He moves away from the mirror and Yuugi doesn't catch him in front of it again for days, weeks, months. He doesn't think it's a coincidence, can't prove it's anything else.

Yuugi buys a mirror to stand on his desk and watches as Yami avoids that half of the room as much as he can. It would seem natural if he wasn't looking for it. Yuugi wonders what else he's missed because he hasn't been looking for it.

The transition from one person into two was as natural as their constant attempts to burrow back into each other. Yami hovers, Yuugi watches him whenever he wanders off, they creep into each other's bed at night, they press. They press into each other more and more every day. With Yuugi it's hand holding, and emotion reading, and questions questions questions until he can remember what it was like to have Yami's voice in his head, private and intimate and _his_. With Yami it's his tongue in Yuugi's mouth, Yuugi's hands too tight on his hips, Yuugi's cock as deep inside him as it can get, and then sometimes he still ask him to go deeper.

It isn't enough and neither know why. They also don't talk about it. Yami just feels cold inside while Yuugi tries everything he can think of to warm him up.

Yami likes hands, likes pushing. Yuugi pushes into walls, into tables, into the floor. Yami pushes back. Yami only pushes back when he likes something. Everything else he just pushes away, pushes off, ignores like it's no more relevant than the air around him. It doesn't make him warm, but he likes it, so Yuugi does it. Yuugi likes it, too. He thinks it helps, brings them closer. He thinks it's love, has always been love, and doesn't question it.

Yami likes hands. Yuugi puts them everywhere until he finds Yami pushing back. In hair, on hips, around thighs, his throat. Yami likes all of it. He only feels warm with Yuugi's hands around his throat. The first time it happens , Yuugi is so wild, hands moving so many places and with so much emotion between them, he almost doesn't notice.

And then he does.

And then he freezes.

He sees the light in Yami's eyes, feels Yami pushes, and he finds warmth. And finally realizes what's been missing.

Yami feels alive.

Yuugi understands why Yami felt cold, what it meant. But he doesn't, really. Pieces slot together, but the puzzle... the puzzle is in pieces on Yuugi's desk and the Pharaoh's throat is in his hands. He understands something though and it's... it's too much.

Yami puts his hands on tops of Yuugi's, squeezes, begs with his eyes.

Yuugi pushes back and doesn't ask.

Yuugi doesn't realize they are different people until Yami starts smoking. Until now, they were still like mirrors to each other. Sure, Yami felt... cold... but Yuugi hadn't felt completely like himself since they split either, so he understood that. This is different. This is new.

Yuugi joins him in the habit just so they don't drift further apart. He doesn't enjoy it like Yami does, but it's... fine. Yuugi doesn't notice the taste in their kisses when they both smoke. The one time he voiced this, Yami drank deeply from a bottle of wine to change the taste of their kiss. They laughed and drank that night like they were one, finding the same things funny and moving in sync and falling together as easily as they ever could with themselves.

Yuugi stops looking for the cracks and so he stops seeing them.

Yuugi feels warm and he's sure that Yami can feel it too. They can share. They share so much, they can share this too.

Yuugi stops asking so many questions and starts giving Yami answers. Yami doesn't push anymore, he pulls. He pulls Yuugi on top of him, pulls into corners to kiss, into bathroom stalls, and alleys, and increasing public places and splays himself out for Yuugi to debauch him. He pulls Yuugi so close. so hard, that Yuugi can trace his hands on Yami's skin the following days.

Yuugi traces the lines on Yami's skin and smiles like they share a secret. Like they've always shared a secret.

"Are you warm?" Yuugi asked. He isn't sure why he asked it, doesn't know what he expects, maybe expects nothing.

"Don't worry about me, Yuugi," Yami answers. He smiles.

Yuugi's smile feels stiff at that response. Yami pulls him closer, pulls them into a kiss, pulls Yuugi from his thoughts. Yuugi answers him in kind.

They don't talk about it. Yami pulls, they smoke and drink and kiss, Yuugi gives. They don't talk about it. Yuugi removes the mirrors from their room and doesn't examine why. Yami pulls. Yuugi can feel their friends watching them as they giggle and excuse themselves for long minutes at a time. Yuugi gives. He gives smiles and kisses and answers to questions he's stopped asking.

Yami feels cold.

The feeling is a shock to his system after how long Yuugi had gone without noticing. But it was loud and dark and screaming at him as Yuugi rushed up the stairs to look for Yami. The bedroom was empty, the bathroom ajar. Yuugi pushed.

Yuugi felt cold.


	14. Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charm: Rough sex, begging  
> Yami/Marik

_It was a pattern._

Yami moaned as he was pushed further into the table. He spread his legs wider, gripped the edges, as Marik's body hovered over him. "You look so good like this, Yami."

_It happened every time without fail._

Marik's hand wrapped around his throat, lifting his head so that Marik could better whisper into his ear."Tell me how bad you want it, Yami." He pressed himself again Yami's spread legs.

Yami bit his lip, trying to push back against Marik. The hand around his throat tightened and his other pinned Yami's hips in place. "That's cheating, Pharaoh."

"Marik, please!" Yami groaned desperately.

"Please, what?"

Yami whined deep in throat. "I need you inside me, Marik."

Marik took his slow time, licking a strip up Yami's neck, along the shell of his ear. The hand around his throat slipped around to the back of his neck, into his hair, before pushing Yami's face against the table, hard.

"You should have said that from the start," Marik purred. Marik lifted one of Yami's legs up from the table and slipped inside with a swift thrust.

Yami gasped. His fingers dug further into the edges of the table. The entire thing shook with Marik's hard thrust. Shot glasses fell off of the table and crashed down on the floor, shattering with a loud sound. His face was throbbing where Marik was grinding it into the side of the table. His cock was trapped between his body and the hard surface of the table, given only the slightest relief when Marik lifted his leg.

"You can be louder than that, Yami," Marik told him. He slapped a hand against Yami's thigh, earning a yelp. "Come on, Yami. I want everyone to hear you." He slapped his thighs harder.

"Marik!"

"That's right," Marik panted. The thrust became slower and more powerful. The table moved with each one, Yami gasping and moaning, trying to meet Marik's push with his own.

"Marik! Please! Marik!"

"Need something, Yami?"

"You son of a bitch!" Yami gasped.

"That's not how you ask for something, Yami," Marik told him. He could hear the amusement in Marik's voice, imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Fuck you!" Yami yelled.

Marik laughed. He leaned forward and bit into Yami's shoulder in time with a hard thrust.

"Yes!" Yami gasped.

Marik's laughter continued. "Roll over, Pharaoh." Yami scrambled to comply and Marik rewarded him with another hard thrust. "Good boy," Marik told him. Yami started to swear at him, but was cut off as Marik starting pushing into him at a fast pace. One hand was gripping his legs, the other wrapped around Yami's cock. "This what you were looking for?"

"Fuck, yes!"

Marik stroked him fast and hard, out of sync with Marik's thrust and kinda sloppy. Yami liked it that way. Fast, and hard, and wild.

Yami was loud when he came, just like Marik liked it.

Later, when Yami had settled on the floor next to the broken glass and lit up a cigarette, when Marik had grabbed his near empty drink from where he's set it on the floor, when they were both messy and sated and still slightly breathless, Yami asked him, "Was this your plan?"

Because this was how it always happened. Slight variance to the same pattern. Marik blew into town, there were drinks or they had dinner, Marik would smile and charm and flirt, and Yami would fall open easy as breathing.

Marik didn't answer him. He scrunched his nose at the sight of Yami's smoking. "Ugh, you know I hate when you smoke."

Yami did know. Marik had never been one to keep his opinions to himself. Yami just didn't care. He didn't have to care. Not anymore. "I know," Yami told him. "You're closest to the door if you want to go."

Marik huffed and moved closer, as clear a statement of his intentions as he felt like making. "You shouldn't sit on the floor. What if you cut yourself?"

"It'll probably lead to round two," Yami responded with a grin.

Marik chuckled as he finished his drink.


	15. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dissonance: Fluff, Humor  
> Yami/Mokuba

"I could do this myself, you know," Mokuba grumbled. He had his head bent forward under the shower spray, his long hair obscuring his face and whatever sardonic expression he was likely making. Yami's hands were covered in foam as they tangled in Mokuba's hair and he tugged purposefully harder at the comment.

"Shut up, Mokuba," he said.

Mokuba made a sound of displeasure that Yami decided to ignore. He continued to massage his hands through Mokuba's hair until all the soap was rinsed out. Mokuba lifted his head slightly. "Are you done?"

Yami pushed his head back down. "No. Are you kidding? One rinse and you think that's enough?"

"I know how to wash my own hair, Yami," Mokuba told him irritably.

Yami scoffed. He poured more shampoo into his hand before massaging it into Mokuba's hair. "Not everything is about you, Mokuba."

Mokuba tried to look at Yami again, but Yami held his head in place until the resistance stopped. He could still see the bruises on Mokuba's skin from the previous night when he'd gotten enthusiastic. He could still feel his own bruises. He would think that Mokuba would appreciate a little pampering, but all he'd done was whine this whole time. Talk about ungrateful!

"That hurts, Yami."

Yami growled under his breath. "Since when are you this hard to please?" he grumbled.

"What was that?" Mokuba asked.

"Shut up!" Yami insisted. "You'll get soap in your mouth."

"I'm not gonna--" Yami interrupted him by pulling his head back, letting the soapy water spill into his mouth. Mokuba pulled away from him to spit out the soap and water. "Yami what the hell?"

"It's just soap," Yami told him. "You'll be fine. Besides, I told you to keep your mouth closed. Now are you going to let me get finish washing your hair?"

Mokuba lifted his hair out of his face to glare at Yami.

"Be careful, you might get soap in your eyes."

It wasn't a threat, but Mokuba closed his eyes and lowered his head anyway. He stayed silent as Yami rinsed the rest of the soap out of his hair. When they got out of the shower, Yami wrapped a towel around Mokuba and began to dry him off. "I don't get you. What are you up to, Yami?"

"Can't I do something nice once in a while?" Yami asked as he placed the towel on Mokuba hair and began to dry it.

"This isn't really like you..."

"You're saying I'm not nice?"

Mokuba groaned. "That's not what I meant, Yami."

Yami ignored him as he continued to dry Mokuba off. He knelt down to start at Mokuba's feet and slowly worked his way back up to his hair. He could feel Mokuba's eyes on him the entire time, but Yami didn't return the gaze.

"This is... oddly clingy for you, Yami."

Yami stiffened, hiding his face as he turned away. "Wh-whatever. Just sit down so I can brush your hair."

Mokuba got a towel and draped it over Yami's head. "Oh, no you don't. You're still dripping wet," he told him as he began to dry Yami's hair. "Turn about is fair play, right?"

Yami's face turned red and he avoided Mokuba's eyes. "Do what you want, just hurry up."

Mokuba did not, in fact, hurry up. He took his time drying Yami's skin and hair, mostly just to watch Yami become more and more red. Yami really wasn't used to pampering, and didn't usually submit to it without a fight unless it was absolutely neccessary. It was... weird that Yami was putting up with it, but Mokuba found himself amused by the oddity rather than frustrated by it.

"Done," Mokuba said.

"Finally." Yami placed his hand on Mokuba's shoulders and pushed him into the next room. He settled Mokuba onto the edge of the bed before returning for the brush and comb and settling himself behind Mokuba.

"What's this all about Yami?" Mokuba questioned. "I'm not gonna stop you, I'm just curious."

"Why does it have to be anything?" Yami asked. The irritation was bleeding into his voice as he ran his fingers through Mokuba's hair, gently untangling it before picking up the brush. "Can't you just enjoy it?"

Mokuba sighed. He supposed that he should just enjoy it. Mokuba closed his eyes and submitted to Yami brushing his hair, letting himself be soothed by the action.


	16. Boundary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boundary: Public Sex  
> Mokuba/Yami

Yami hated phones. He would much rather talk to someone in person than over a distance, and typically only used his for emergencies. He barely spared it a thought as it fell out of his pocket when Mokuba bent him over his desk. He heard it clatter to the floor and only spared it a glance because his phone was the reason he was here at all.

Mokuba's hand reached around to rub Yami's hardened cock through his pants. "You're so easy, Yami."

Those words were an echo to the ones that Mokuba had spoke not twenty minutes earlier, when Yami had begged, demanded, to come to Mokuba's side after the other had spent ten long minutes teasing Yami over the phone.

_"Where are you right now?" Yami asked, "Wherever it is, leave it, stop it - whatever. Name your place. I'll meet you."_

_"I can't... I'm at work. You're so easy, Yami."_

_"I'll be there in ten minutes," Yami told him, hanging up the phone._

_It had taken a little longer than ten minutes to get to Kaiba Corp, but Mokuba hadn't turned him away. To the contrary, Mokuba had pushed him against the wall and kissed him breathless._

"I shouldn't be doing this," Mokuba told him as he tossed his jacket on the back of his chair. "Seto would freak if he found out."

"Let him," Yami responded. He couldn't care less about what Kaiba did or how he felt about anything Yami did, especially not right now. He heard Mokuba fiddle with his belt and Yami hastily pulled down his own pants. No sooner had they fallen to his ankles was Mokuba pushing him down on his desk.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Mokuba said. He rubbed himself against Yami's ass. Clearly he was just as into this as Yami and he pushed back against Mokuba's hard cock immediately.

"We," Yami corrected. "That _we_ are doing this." He pushed against Mokuba again. "Come on, I'm ready." He knew Mokuba was usually the type to engage in a lot of foreplay, but Yami wasn't in the mood, and this wasn't really the place. He was ready and willing to take Mokuba here and now.

Mokuba didn't disappoint. In one swift move he thrust forward into Yami, causing him to hiss in pleasure. Mokuba let out his own muffled moan as he sank deep into Yami. "Fuck, Yami..."

"Fuck me hard enough to leave an imprint on your desk," Yami told him.

Mokuba pulled out and pushed back in slowly for the first few thrust. Then Mokuba grabbed hold of his hips and sped up the pace. Yami's fingers dug into the edge of the desk as he grit his teeth and held tight. Mokuba pushed in hard and Yami hoped that he would leave bruises where he gripped Yami's hips.

"This is... so inappropriate," Mokuba panted between thrust. "You're... making a mess... of my desk..."

Yami had barely paid any attention to the papers that he'd scattered when he'd been bent over the desk, but he could see how much disarray was before him. He wondered if Mokuba was getting off on it or if he was trying to scold him Yami for his bad behavior. Yami hoped it was both.

"What... are you... gonna do... about it?" Yami asked breathlessly.

One hand released Yami's hip to fist in his hair, pulling his head back. Mokuba's lips were right by his ear as he told him, "Should make you apologize... for all the trouble... you're causing me."

Fuck, Yami wanted that. He wanted to be punished so badly his cock was actually begging for it. He wondered what Mokuba would do if he came on his desk? He had the inclination to beg for it. Instead what came out of Yami's mouth was a groaned, "Make me."

Mokuba released Yami's hair to slap him hard on his thigh. "You're such a fucking brat, Yami!" Mokuba exclaimed, pushing in even harder, even faster. It was so good. Yami didn't think he'd last much longer. Mokuba stepped on Yami's pants to lift one of his legs up and onto the desk. More papers were scattered to the floor as he pressed forward onto Yami's whole body, forcing his face down onto the desk and holding it there as he fucked Yami into the desk.

Yami moaned loudly, completely heedless of who could hear him. He was pretty sure he was chanting a steady stream of, "yes, yes, yes," but he wasn't actually sure.

"You're so fucking selfish," Mokuba continued. From the strain in his voice, Yami thought he must have been close to coming, as well. "Interrupting me... at work like this. So... So fucking... fucking needy..."

Yami was so close, he could taste it. "Mokuba!"

Mokuba slammed a hand hard against Yami's ass as he came, which tipped Yami over the edge as well.

Mokuba stood over him for a few minutes panting, trying to catch his breath the same as Yami. Once he was breathing normally, pulled himself slowly out of Yami, causing Yami to wince the slightest bit. Mokuba pulled Yami up by his hair and held his face over the mess he'd made on the desk. "Clean this up, Yami."

Yami tried to look at Mokuba, but the other man held his head rigidly straight. He hesitated, then extended his tongue to lick up his cum where it stained the desk.

"Good," Mokuba told him. "This is your punishment for bothering me at work. How am I suppose to work if you dirty up my desk?"

Yami felt a shiver of please roll through him as he licked the desk clean. Afterwards, he used his shirt sleeve to remove the saliva that was left behind.

Mokuba let him go as he began to put himself back in order. Yami watched him for a minute before putting his pants back on. "You know, this is your fault, Mokuba. If you hadn't decided to be a tease..."

Mokuba gave him a dirty look and Yami shut up with a grin. He strolled over to Yami and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Have a good day," he told him before leaving Mokuba to sort out the mess in his office in peace.

Yami barely remembered to grab his phone on the way out.


End file.
